


Overwatch Oneshots

by Khaleesi_of_Assassins



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Reader-Insert, yikes that's a lot of tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:19:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleesi_of_Assassins/pseuds/Khaleesi_of_Assassins
Summary: I suck at the game so I'll write stories instead. Reader inserts with our favorite Overwatch heroes; just send me a message or comment on what you'd like me to write!





	1. Intro/Rules

Hi all! So before we get started, I'd like to lay down some ground rules.

1\. (Updated) ~~I probably won't do smut~~. . . . . I don't have much experience with smut, but I'll try I suppose. Any smutty chapters will be marked as NSFW.  

2\. I would like a general rundown of what you want your oneshot to be like (more than "I would like a Genji oneshot," for example). I really want to write these stories well and it helps me a lot to know what you guys are looking for. It doesn't have to be a ton, but a general outline goes a long way.

3\. Multiple requests are ok!

4\.  If I've done a story similar to your request, I will give you a link to it. I want to try to avoid writing the same thing over and over. 

5\.  I'll do reader inserts, but no OC's. As far as the reader insert go, I will be happy to write F/M, M/M, F/F or gender neutral, just let me know in the request which one you would like! I am gonna go ahead and exclude Hammond (Wrecking Ball) and Winston from anything other than a platonic oneshot though. 

6\.  Don't hate on anyone for their requests. 

7\. (More of a side-note) I will do my best to write these oneshots as quickly as I can but I'm heading into school and I don't know what my schedule's going to be like, so there might be a wait. 

Anyway, now that that's over, please feel free to request your hearts out!


	2. Zarya/M! Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You went to war knowing that you might lose everything. After a devastating injury, you realize that you may not have been ready for such a loss. Luckily, a certain Russian is there to help you through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zarya x Male reader. A reader that has lost a limb in combat, and Zarya is helping them cope with it. I can just picture Zarya being supportive in that situation  
> Requested by BattleBread, hope you like it!

     You’d been promised pain when you’d gone to war. That was its nature after all, and when you’d signed on to fight in the front lines against the omnium, you thought that you were prepared to make any sacrifice needed to keep those you loved safe. More and more, you were realizing that you had accounted only for dying or living, not what might lie in between.

     So you’d fought and bled but always got back up again, every battle or close call just making you feel more invincible. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? 

     The beeping of the hospital machines changed that line of thinking.

     Even when you returned home, you could still hear the sound that you had woken up to; that steady beeping. You remembered that sound more than the actual attack, it all happened so fast. But even if you couldn’t remember much of that night beyond explosions and gunfire, the wheelchair you’d come home in was proof that it  _ had _ happened. 

     Your legs were gone. 

     “You’re lucky,” you had been told. Several of your squad mates had not made it out of the attack with their lives. Guilt that you had survived at all when so many did not was hard to overcome.

     The first thing that the doctors had told you was that cybernetics were absolutely an option, and that you would be given the best as soon as possible. With the war going on, it was a week and a half before you got your new legs. A week and a half of rolling yourself around in your wheelchair, hearing reports from the front lines. It killed you to hear of the war but not be able to do a damn thing about it. 

     So far away from home, you didn’t receive many visitors during that week and a half. Only those squad mates that had survived the ambush which, of course, included a certain pink-haired Russian woman. 

     You couldn’t help but be ashamed when Zarya saw you. The two of you had served together for some time now, and she had always been so incredibly strong, so sure of herself. The two of you had become fast friends, never opposed to a friendly challenge on the battlefield. So when you heard that she was coming, you silently dreaded what she might say when she saw you. 

     Then, she’d stayed by your side longer than anyone else. She brought you warm meals and offered more comfort than any of your remaining squad mates, despite their best intentions. And when that week and a half passed and your cybernetics arrived, Zarya was there for you to lean on. 

      Literally, as it would have it. 

     The new legs were nothing like what you were used to; the weight on them was different, and despite having control over them, not being able to really feel them the same way was making the transition difficult. Now, you were leaning heavily against Zarya’s shoulder as you struggled to take a few steps. 

     “You’re doing well,” she offered, her usually thick accent softened slightly. That was Zarya; always there for you without a thought of reward. 

     You gritted your teeth as you reached your new, metal leg forward yet again. “Not well enough.” Zarya had helped the learning process immeasurably, but none of it was fast enough for you. There were so many soldiers out there who could use your help, and you were stuck here. And what of Zarya herself? She was more than capable of fending for herself, but you would be damned if you weren’t by her side. You would need to be able to run, jump and crouch to be of any use on the front lines . . . and you could barely walk. 

     A string of curses flew out of you as you stumbled again, only barely catching yourself on Zarya’s shoulder. She was quick to respond, stabilizing you as best she could. Your mind rushed as you tried to take another step, or stand on your own, but instead you collapsed into Zarya’s side again. This time, the Russian helped you down to sit on the floor before she knelt in front of you. 

     Any hope you had - along with any pride - was slipping away. “ _ Damn it _ .” It was all you could really manage. 

     When you met Zarya’s eyes again, you can’t help but expect pity. What you find instead is determination and compassion. “Do not rush yourself. You will get past this.” 

     “In time to help everyone on the front?” you didn’t mean to snap as much as you did, but you couldn’t help it. You took in a deep breath, trying and failing to collect yourself. “They need me.”

     Zarya smiled, placing her hands on either of you shoulders. “You are a good man, (Y/N). I know this is hard for you.” Your nod was so small, you weren’t sure if she caught it. “But I will be here for you every step of the way.” She stood, reaching down a hand. The two of you had become good at communicating through nothing more than a glance, and from the look Zarya was giving you, you knew that her words were true. 

     Standing was a little less difficult this time, as you took Zarya’s hand. She gave you a look of pride as she spoke. “ Я прикрываю твою спину. Всегда.” 

     You smiled back at the words. They had become your shared creed, a promise the two of you would always share, on and off of the battlefield.  _ I’m watching your back. Always. _

     “Всегда,” you repeated, steadying yourself to try once again. 


	3. D.Va/F! Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're about to have your first face-to-face meeting with your online pen-pal, Hana. You're already nervous enough before realizing that there may be more to Hana than she told you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hana x female reader please with the reader being an online pen pal that she eventually meets but the pen pal didn’t realize it would be d.va because Hana wanted to make a new friend that likes her for her and not for d.va if that makes sense.  
> Requested by JavVarrenWolf, enjoy!

     Tapping your fingers on the coffee cup in your hands, you realized how nervous you were. It was silly, you supposed; it was just a date, right? Nothing to get frazzled over . . . except that this was your first face-to-face meeting. Your only chance to make a first impression. And you  _ really _ liked this girl.

     You’d been online pen-pals with Hana for months now, chatting about anything and everything from movies or video games to the state of the crazy world. You’d never connected with someone so quickly, so you were overjoyed when she agreed to meet up. 

     It was a quiet day in the out-of-the-way shop, perfect for a meet-up. Having arrived early and ordered your favorite drink, all that was left to do was wait. Watch the clock and wait. 

     So when the door to the shop opened, you felt your heart hammer just a little faster as you turned to see who it was.

     And in walked someone so instantly recognizable, you could have sworn you were watching TV. What was D.Va doing here? The mech pilot had been all over the news lately, protecting Busan from attacks, so what on earth would  _ the _ Hana Song be doing . . . your mouth gaped open as you put two and two together. The Hana you’d been chatting with was none other than the star D.Va.

     But as soon as she saw you, she smiled brightly. “(Y/N)?” she asked, making her way over to you.

     You nodded. “Yep, that’s me.” 

     Before you could do practically anything else, Hana flung her arms around you in a warm hug that you couldn’t help but return. “Sorry I’m a little late,” she said, pulling back to look at you again, “it’s so good to finally meet you! In person, I mean.”

     “You too!” you smiled, despite the realization you’d just come to. You offered to buy her a coffee - to which she insisted that  _ she _ be the one to pay - and the two of you returned to the table you’d chosen. She’d barely taken her first sip of the drink before you decided to address the elephant in the room. “You’re . . . uh, you’re D.Va.” I wanted to smack yourself for that line.

     Hana nodded a little grimly, setting her cup down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just . . .” she trailed off, looking for the right words, “everyone I’ve met lately has just been so focused on what I do, not who I am. You know? I just really wanted someone to like me for me, not because I’m in the spotlight.” You could tell that this was a bit of a struggle for her, and despite having never really been in the spotlight yourself, you  _ did _ understand. 

     “Well, I  _ do _ admire you for what you do, I mean, it’s really brave of you to go out and fight for the people you love. But like you said, I like you for who you are! I . . . really like you.” A bit of pink blush crept up Hana’s cheeks as you said it. “I’m just a little surprised is all.” You both laughed a little, something you were immeasurably glad for. “I really am glad to finally see you though.”

     It was strange at first, but soon enough, the two of you were chatting each other up, just like you had online. Only this was infinitely better. Even after both of your drinks had run dry, you kept laughing at the stories both of you told. 

     As Hana smiled, you realized how beautiful it made her. “How about we go do something fun? Just the two of us out on the town?” 

     “I’d love to!” You nodded eagerly as the two of you stood, though Hana surprised you by linking arms with you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Now it was your turn to blush. 

     “Have any ideas?”

     You laughed as you suggested the old arcade. “You’d probably destroy me.”

     “Nah,” she insisted, “I’d go easy on you. Besides, I could give you a few pointers!” The two of you started out down the street as you left the little coffee shop, and any worries you might have started the date with were long gone. 


	4. McCree / F! Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've had plenty of near-death experiences as an agent of Overwatch, but the most recent keeps coming back to haunt you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just got an idea! Could you do one with a fem!/reader having ptsd after a battle and Mccree helps her out?"  
> Requested by Alice  
> (Possible trigger warning if you've come close to drowning; I pulled from my own experience with that for this one.)

_      You felt weightless, like you were floating endlessly. Above you was the sky, blue as ever, with a burst of flame blossoming across your vision. It took a moment for you to register what had just happened, but hitting the surface of water, hard, was enough to shock you into reality. _

_      You were sinking, seeing the light grow farther and farther away as you thrashed to try and swim up. It wasn't until you looked behind you that you realized why you weren't having an effect. Your leg was caught in a hunk of twisted metal, intent on dragging you down with it.  _

_      You were barely aware of your own body moving as you clawed at it, adrenaline and lack of oxygen impairing your mind. You struggled against its hold, your lungs going from feeling pressure to a sensation like they were going to explode. If you could just inhale, just get a tiny bit of air . . . suddenly water rushed into your mouth and nose, and you were too busy clawing at your throat to realize that you had taken a breath of water.  _

_      Kicking at the wreckage trapping you one last time, you felt your arms and legs going limp. You looked up to the sky, or where the sky would have been, marveling at the light refracting through the water. A shadow passed over you and you reached towards it as much as your stonelike limbs would allow. _

     “Darlin’,”

_      You could swear you saw someone reaching back- _

     “Hey, (Y/N)!” At the sound of Jesse’s voice, you shot up out of bed, coughing like, well, like your lungs had been filled with water. “Are you alright?” You looked up to see Jesse kneeling in front of you, those intense eyes of his focused on you and spelling out his concern.

     You shook your head, riding out the end of your coughing fit. “Bad dream.”

     “I'll say. You stopped breathin’ there for a minute.” He took your hand and squeezed it lovingly, pressing a kiss against a knuckle. “It was about the mission, wasn't it?” 

     Nodding, you averted your gaze. How many ops had you been on? How many brushes with death had you been through? But for some reason, none of them came close to knowing that you were out of air and just being forced to wait for the end.

     “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

_      No, _ you wanted to say, because even thinking about the experience made you freeze up.  _ Yes _ , you thought, because nothing had ever shaken you so badly.

     “I . . .” you trailed off before letting your head fall a bit. “I don't know. I don't know why I can't stop thinking about it.”

     McCree nodded, moving to sit beside you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around you, his warm skin feeling comforting against yours. “I can't either.” He admitted. “I thought I was gonna lose you. Scared the hell outta me.” The confession was almost too much. Jesse had been the one to dive in after you that day. He'd been there when you woke up, choking and sputtering while you remembered how to breathe. 

     You turned to face him and pressed yourself into him, your arms circling him tightly. “It scared me too,” you tried to joke but the shakiness of your voice betrayed you. “It terrified me.” 

     Jesse ran a hand through your hair, letting you sit in his arms. You hadn't joined Overwatch for your way with words, so you were glad that Jesse could understand what you needed when you couldn't voice it. Slowly, you relaxed, your thoughts drifting away from the dream. All the while, Jesse just held you. Between all the firefights and everything else, it was easy to forget how gentle McCree could be. 

     You weren't really sure how much time had passed when you finally untangled yourself from him. Still, however long it had been, Jesse just gave you a look, like he was asking if you were alright. 

     Giving him a small smile, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” you whispered when you separated. 

     He grinned a bit. “Anytime, darlin’.” 

     You were hesitant to close your eyes again, but eventually the comfort of his arms around you lulled you into a deep sleep. It would be a long time before you stopped dreaming of that day, but having Jesse beside you always let you breathe a little easier. 


	5. Roadhog/Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You share a rare, quiet moment with Mako. That's not the only surprise of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A quiet moment between the reader and Roadhog, where Roadhog reminisces about his life in Australia before the omnium blew up."  
> Requested by BattleBread

     You were so used to everything around you being in constant motion, whether that took the form of you moving from place to place or gunfire and explosions surrounding you. Such was the life of a merc for hire. Normally, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You liked the action, the feeling of never growing stagnant or old. You were living for the moment and you didn’t care that you might not live for long. It was the reason you’d started to travel with Junkrat and Roadhog.

     Well, it had started out as the pay being good, but then it’d turned into something more. The three of you were as thick as thieves, which was a good thing, considering your choice of activities. 

     You’d been across the world and back again a few times now, never failing at finding trouble. It was like living the dream for you, but even you had to admit that you could use a bit of a breather. Still, sitting under the shade of a tree with Mako next to you almost felt alien. 

     Jamison was nowhere to be found, which you understood. Rat always needed something to do, and that something usually involved explosions. He wouldn’t touch the peaceful scene you were enjoying now with a twenty foot pole. Unless he’d meant to plant a landmine somewhere in it. So that left you and Mako, his expression a mystery behind his mask, as he watched the horizon. 

     “Just like home.”

     The speed with which you spun around could have earned a crack from your back as you turned to look at Roadhog, eyes wide. Your companion was a man of few words, and even after months of knowing him, you had only heard him speak maybe a handful of times. 

     It was just a strange day, it seemed. 

     “We used to get sunsets like this.” It seemed a strange thing for Mako to observe, but then you’d never really known what was going on inside his head. Let alone what his home was like, for that matter. Despite the surprise of the whole situation, you couldn’t help but smile a bit as he continued. “There used to be nothing for miles.” He still wasn't one for lengthy descriptions, but you could picture the scene anyway. 

     “That sounds nice,” you admitted, laughing as his reminiscing brought up your own memories. “My uncle had his own farm. We'd spend hours running all over the place when we were kids. It'd take them hours to find us.”

     Mako gave a short laugh that came out more like a snort. 

     A comfortable silence passed over the two of you. It wasn't until you realized that you wanted to hear more that you broke it. “Do you ever want to go back?”

     Shaking his head, Mako answered. “Nothing to go back to.” 

     Most of the times you'd heard him speak up until now, he had used a harsh voice, meant to set people into a panic. He often came across sounding more monster than man, and you knew he liked it that way.  Now though, you could hear just a bit of bitterness and regret in his words.

     And then he told you the story, short but far from sweet. He told you of how his home had been taken from him, and how fighting to get it back had destroyed it entirely. 

     It didn't take long for him to finish, but by the time he had, you came to understand more of Mako than you had in all your months traveling with him. “You ever going home?” he finally asked after another long pause.

     You shook your head. “Nope. I'm right where I want to be.”

     He gave a nod before the two of you went back to watching the skyline. Somehow, you got the feeling that Mako felt the same way you did.


	6. McCree/M! Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief overview of times you've gotten Jesse McCree drink . . . and his offer to return the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated recently, I've been without reliable internet for the last few weeks but I am working on all of your requests!
> 
> "Mcree ends up befriend a bartender at a local bar he frequents and asks him on a date when he's drunk or something....something along the lines of that!!! ( I rlly just want mcree fluff lol)"  
> Requested by vallerian

        You had lost count of the times you’d (inadvertently, mostly) gotten Jesse McCree drunk. It’s not that you set out with the intent to waste the cowboy, it just came with your job description as a bartender. You could, however, still remember the first time he’d walked into the bar where you worked. How could you forget a man wearing a damn cowboy hat walking through your door, after all?

        Even on that first day, he'd been rather boisterous, joking with you and otherwise making your evening far more bearable. Since then, you looked forward to seeing the Jesse, always knowing that there would be something entertaining that followed not too far behind.

        A few incidents sprung to mind, namely ones where he would have one drink too many and start reenacting what you had to assume were old westerns. The times when he tried his hand at karaoke were even more entertaining, albeit more distracting for the other customers. He would tell stories so crazy and colorful you wondered if they were even real. Often when you asked him, he would just give you this _look_ before directing your question back at you.

        In truth - and you weren’t exactly sure how - McCree had become one of your best friends very quickly, despite how many times you’d served him drinks until he had to call a cab home.

        Little did you know, things were in motion that would allow him to return the favor.

        “Gimme another, bartender!” By now, you were very familiar with the tone Jesse’s voice would take on when he was drunk. There was no mistaking it here, but you had to admit, you were a little surprised. Usually, beer alone wasn’t enough to get him to slur his words.

        Looking back at the tab he’d run up though, you finally realised that you’d lost count along the way.

        You grinned at the cowboy, who was looking up at you with big, expectant eyes. You leaned forward on the bar dramatically. “Jesse, you know how much I _love_ the money I earn from your visits,” you teased, “but you really should think about slowing down. I don’t want you passing out again.”

        “Worried ya might have to patch me up, doc?” It wasn’t more than a playful jab on its own, but the way McCree said it . . . he’d been doing that a lot recently, you realised.

        “I’m worried you’ll get banned.”

        He chuckled at that. “They couldn’t keep me out. I’d miss ya too much.” He gave you one of his damn grins before reaching for one of the bottles behind the counter.

        You smacked his hand away, earning something close to a groan of anguish from the cowboy.

        “Come on, take some pity on a poor soul?” he slurred again, but you shook your head, moving any bottles you could see out of his reach.

        “Jesse, really, I'm gonna have to cut you off.”

        “Always lookin’ to take care of me,” he said, and even though he was drunk, you could see his train of thought changing. “Ya know, someone oughtta but you a drink, after everythin’ you do around here.”

        You grinned, your mind preoccupied with putting bottles away so you didn't quite grasp his meaning. “Oh ya? Like who?” you meant it as a ‘who would ever use their own money to buy drinks for someone other than themselves?’ You didn't think about what McCree’s answer would be.

        “Well, me of course!” it was a fuzzy, almost incoherent sentence, but you understood all the same.

        “Seriously?” you asked, half out of sheer bewilderment, half excitement. It was one of those opportunities you didn't know you wanted to take until you were given the offer.

        Jesse nodded, full of drunken determination. “Yeah! Think you could keep the bar open after hours for us? Saayyyy, next week?”

         And that was the story of how you wound up sitting in an empty bar, tapping your foot absentmindedly against the leg of a barstool.

        He was late.

        Maybe it was dumb of you to take a man up on a date offer when he was that sloshed. You sighed, thinking that he probably didn't even remember the conversation. Just about to throw in the towel, the door to the bar burst open and in walked none other than Jesse McCree, looking like he'd just been run over by a herd of wildebeests.

        “Sorry I'm late!” the cowboy rushed over to you, limping a little on one of his legs.

        You were standing now, moving to grab him a chair. “ _Jesse what the hell happened_?”

        Despite wincing while he sat down, he chuckled. “Now that's quite the story,” he said, giving you more questions than answers. “Maybe later tonight I'll tell you. For now,” he reached behind the counter, grabbing a bottle of bourbon, “let's focus on that drink I promised you.”

        Reeling a little from all the information you just got, you smiled and took the bottle from him. “Are you planning on getting me drunk, McCree?”

        The cowboy grinned. “Maybe. That depends on how much you can handle.” He leaned in close to you, giving you a mischievous look.

        “More than you, I'd wager.” You couldn't help yourself.

        “Oh, now them’s fightin’ words.”


	7. Redeemed! Widowmaker/M! Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Amélie have a late-night heart-to-heart after a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Umbradominus.  
> I was originally going to have McCree be the cameo at the end but then I though; "Hmm, do you know what would be even more embarrassing?" And so here we are.  
> Also, let me know if you guys see any symbols that don't belong, this one was terrible to format. I think I got everything cleaned up, but I want to make sure.

        As an analyst for Overwatch, you ended up staring at quite a few screens in a single day. After all, monitoring international chatter and picking up vital intelligence was a job that often required almost endless hours just gazing into a computer monitor. You were quite isolated in your office, the hub of information that supplied Overwatch. It felt like days since you had spoken to anyone, and you realized that the sentiment was only a slight over-exaggeration.

        Over the last few days, most everyone had been off on missions or working elsewhere in the Watchpoint. Not wanting to bother them, you had stayed put, stuck where you were sitting now working tirelessly to gather as much information as you could. You'd lost track of the hours, finally taking a look at the clock to realize just how late it was.

        You had worked plenty of late nights before, but something about today was just making you crazy. So, deciding that you had spent entirely too long looking at the screen in front of you, you decided to look for some company. 

        Amélie Lacroix, specifically.

        When she defected from Talon, it had been thanks in large part to you. You had been monitoring Talon communications when you stumbled across her message. It was a surprise to everyone for the former assassin to offer herself up in surrender, and a far worse one when she told them exactly what had been done to her. There had been a long debate about whether she should be allowed to become part of Overwatch, given her past but you had grown close to the blue-skinned sniper in that time. You advocated for her and not long after she was made an agent of Overwatch.

        The greatest surprise to you was when she admitted to reciprocating the interest you had developed for her. The rest, as they say, is history. 

        She had been gone on a mission for days now, only returning this morning. She had dropped by your little hub of computer screens to say hello before she had to attend a debriefing of her mission. 

        Your own work could wait for a while; spending time with Amélie took priority at the moment.

        It was a fair assumption that she would be at the shooting range. You couldn't help but smile when you walked in and she was there, taking a shot at the farthest target away and hitting the center perfectly. "Now there's a sight for sore eyes," you said as you took a few steps to get through the threshold into the shooting range.

        You smiled as Amélie turned her yellow gaze away from her target and towards you. Her lips curved into a small grin, and she lowered her sniper rifle. "I'm glad you enjoy the view. And I could say the same of you, mon cher. What are you doing down here? I thought that you had to work late again tonight."

        Nodding, you moved closer to her. "I do, I just needed to clear my head. I hope you don't mind the company,"

        Amélie shook her head. "Not at all," she paused, like she was searching for the right words, "in fact, I would enjoy it."

        You frowned, seeing her troubled expression. She may have been free of Talon, but their experiments still had a lasting effect on her. It was difficult for her to express emotion sometimes. While things were improving on that front, it was still difficult for most to read her. One might mistake her for having no emotion, as she had been in the hands of Talon. You, on the other hand, had long since learned to read the micro-expressions that flashed across her face.

        "What's wrong?" you almost smiled at the look she gave you. Part annoyed, part relieved.

        She looked away for a moment, something clearly on her mind. "There were Talon operatives waiting for us when we landed. They ambushed us. I took a shot at one to bail Tracer out . . ." she trailed off, giving a huff, "she thought I was aiming at her."

        "Amélie, I'm sorry." It was all you could think to say. You knew that the transition was hard for her, but things had been going well. Her first few missions with the others had gone off without any trouble.

        Amélie shrugged, shaking her head. "She apologized later but . . . je ne sais pas. I am still not sure what I am to them. I think . . . I think they look at me and see only Gerard's killer." Her tone had dropped considerably, her golden eyes downcast.

        "Amélie, you can't blame yourself for what happened. It wasn't you." 

        "I know," her tone let you know that she didn't fully believe it. She looked at the sniper rifle in her hands, before taking it to the weapons rack on the far side of the room. When she turned around to face you again, she still looked deep in thought.

        "There's more, isn't there?"

        Slowly, she nodded. "Talon knew that I would be there. One of the agents called out to me." There were few times that you saw Amélie afraid, but she looked almost haunted now. "They will come after me again."

        You shook your head, stepping in closer to her. "I would never let anything happen to you, Amélie."

        She laughed dryly. "Ah, my fearsome analyst to the rescue." Her grin was replaced by a look of sincerity. "What about you? You look tired, mon cher." You noticed the change of topic, but you knew by now not to press her on a subject. Besides, you'd forgotten the last time someone had asked you how you were doing.

        All the same, your answer was practically instinctual. "Me? I'm fine. Just lots of work to do."

        Ever observant, Amélie knew right away that you were lying if the look she gave you was any indication. You couldn't help but smile at her, unable to convey how glad you were that she took notice of your mood.

        "I just," you suddenly couldn't find the words. Her own struggles seemed so much bigger than yours, something in you was keeping you from admitting them.

        "(Y/N), you can tell me anything."

        You sighed, still reluctant. "I've just been feeling isolated. With all of you being out there, saving the world all the time, I don't ever want to bother anyone. And intelligence reports aren't very good company," you joked, trying to cover it up with humor. That sort of thing didn't work with Amélie, though. She could read you just as well as you could read her.

         "Tu es terrible. I will always make time for you. And I know the others do not consider you a _bother_."

         "I know, I know," now it was you who spoke without really believing the words. "But they do have bigger concerns. I wish I could help more-"

        Her gaze hardened. "Do not say that. Everyone here would be blind without you. _I_ would not be here without you."

        She had stepped closer to you mid-sentence, placing a chilled hand on your jaw. Again, you were smiling at her. For being such a feared assassin, you were always amazed by these quieter moments with her, the moments where _Amélie_ shown through the conditioning Talon had put her through. It made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. "Well when you put it that way," it was another joke, this one earning you an eye roll and a smirk. Her words helped more than she could know, though. "Thank you, Amélie. For listening."

        She smiled, a genuine look that only added to her beauty. "De rien. And thank you. You will never know how glad I am that you found my message that day."

        Amélie was the one to lean in for the kiss first, her arms winding around you. It was slow and loving, full of unspoken truths. When you broke away, you rested your foreheads together. "Tu me rends heureux, Amélie." It was broken French and you were sure that your accent was atrocious, but it made Amélie smile nonetheless.

        "Ah, someone has been practicing," she teased.

        "Oui," making her laugh before leaning in again.

        The only thing that stopped you was a gruff voice coming from the entrance to the shooting range. "Take it somewhere else. Damn kids these days." You were moderately horrified when you saw the silver hair and unmistakable visor belonging to Soldier 76. Having been part of the newly reformed Overwatch since its rebirth, you had worked very closely with him for some time now. You had nothing but respect for the man, so having him see you and Amélie was enough to make your face turn red. 

        Not one to be deterred, he stomped right past the two of you, obviously intent on getting some late night practice in. 

        You and Amélie couldn't leave the shooting range fast enough. As he watched the pair of you, the aging super soldier could only shake his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translations:  
> mon cher - my dear/darling  
> je ne sais pas - I don't know  
> tu es terrible - you are terrible  
> de rien - you're welcome  
> tu me rends heureux - you make me so happy


End file.
